


all those days are over now

by la_victorienne



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Non-explicit character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-01
Updated: 2008-07-01
Packaged: 2018-10-16 00:42:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10560486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_victorienne/pseuds/la_victorienne





	

_“Summer afternoon – summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.” – Henry James_  
“To my surprise, and my delight/I saw sunrise, I saw sunlight.” – Chris Martin, “Daylight”

  
day one.

When the light of actual, natural day breaks over Roald Dahl Plass, only Ianto is there to witness it. There are official things to be done and he is the only one qualified to do them, the only one left, but there is blissful sunlight on his face and _just for a moment_ he closes his eyes and appreciates what he has been given. Despite the fact that he might just be the most knowledgeable person in all of the United Kingdom, the longest surviving and only present member of Torchwood, at this moment he understands how minute he is compared to the vastness of the universe in a way he had never done before, despite all of his interaction with the extraterrestrial, and the comprehension fills him with a supreme sense of – of _relief_.

 

day fifteen.

For the first time that Ianto can remember, Jack has kept a promise, the one to come home. They embrace in the tourist office for what seems like hours, and though Jack smells strange, like fire smoke and electricity rather than salt water and gunpowder, Ianto buries his face in the captain's neck all the same to finally let go and _weep_. Jack weeps with him, until they've gone from standing to kneeling to leaning against the tourist desk with their arms around each other, coping with the idea that they're the only ones left to rebuild what feels like the entire world.

“I loved her so much,” Jack finally admits, fingers idly stroking Ianto's hair while their backs threaten to cramp on the hard floor. “You should have told me.”

“You would have stayed,” Ianto murmurs into Jack's shoulder, damp with his tears. “Might have changed history. We knew what we were doing, Gwen as well as I.”

“Not _quite_ as well as you,” Jack rebuts. “She'd never seen them before. You had. Don't think I'd forgotten.” Ianto doesn't say anything after that, just tugs Jack closer.

“I love you,” he finally whispers, but whether or not Jack hears he's not sure.

 

day eighty-two.

“You might as well join the team,” Ianto says, arms folded. “If you don't resent us too much.”

Rhys just picks up the handgun he's been offered and turns it in his hand, testing the weight in his fingers with an impassive expression.

“Might as well,” he grunts. “It'll be worth it, to fight for her. You did, didn't you? Fight for her.”

Ianto just nods. It's enough. It's a start.

 

day two hundred and ninety-six.

Sometimes Ianto feels almost normal, normal for Torchwood, normal for Wales, normal for humanity. Walking home with Jack at the end of a pleasingly warm day, hands loosely entwined, more physical affection than they've displayed in a week and a half – this is normal, this is real. The feeling of a bead of sweat trickling down the small of his back, the dry texture of Jack's warm hands, the knowledge that this park in Cardiff will soon echo with the sound of children playing again, parents beginning to trust in their safety. Ianto's heart lifts in something akin to happiness as the sun starts to set, and he squeezes Jack's fingers a little tighter, brings him a little closer. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but nothing comes out and he shuts his jaw with a little snap! before furrowing his brow. Jack turns his head.

“Yes?”

“What? Oh, nothing. Just thinking.”

“Thinking what? I do sometimes like to know what's happening in that head of yours. Tell me.”

“It's just...I think I finally realized why I can walk in the light and not feel guilty.” He turns his head and Jack smiles a little, a real smile, a crooked smile. “Because I'm not walking alone.”

There's more in that sentence than meets the eye, a nod to Gwen and Tosh and Owen and Suzie and Lisa, the ghosts who walk among them, between them, around them. And Jack just squeezes and sets his eyes on the horizon, and Ianto hears in his heart the words Jack can't bring himself to say.

“Home?” he just asks. Jack smiles.

“Home.”  



End file.
